A Day In The Life
by Neuronerd
Summary: Peter is having one really bad day and wonders if being a hero is really worth it.
1. Chapter 1 From Bad

**A/N: So I was feeling a bit angsty and decided to write a short shot about Peter's really crappy day. Reviews make great gifts!**

**Chapter 1- From Bad…**

I should have known that it was going to be one of those days. I just had a bad feeling in my gut when I got a phone call a mere 5 hours after pulling a double shift begging me to come back in to cover a shortage. While the company was far from the only ambulance service in New York City, you would swear it was based on the number of hours I alone put in- forget everyone else. There were times I thought I was the only licensed paramedic in town. Despite my desire to save the world, I had to admit that I was only one man that had limitations and lately I'd been pushing those pretty far.

I had just enough energy to hold the phone to my ear as I fought to remain conscious. I didn't know if it was actually possible to die from lack of sleep, but I didn't want to be the first confirmed victim. I was startled awake by the loud beeping sound that resulted from my cheek pressing a button on the dial pad.

"Peter? You still there?" My boss all but yelled. He was a good man with a high pressure job, but at his core he had no heart when it came to filling his schedule. The joke on the crew was that he didn't care if his medics were just about as dead as the patients they were expected to rescue. He had a lot of faith in adrenaline, but Hesam often joked that I should stock a few extra epi pens in the rig just in case our adrenal glands burned out from fatigue and we needed an extra boost to get through. I was starting to think it was a good idea.

"Yeah." I mumbled incoherently. "I would and all, but you know I just came off a double and I have to be back at 11 tonight for my regular shift."

"Yeah, so what's a few hours early?" He half laughed. I didn't get the joke and I frowned at the phone. Every minute he spent talking was one more minute that I could have been sleeping. In this job you learn very quickly that every minute counts. "Look, Peter," He started in a more serious tone, "I know I've been riding you a lot lately, probably more than the others. But it's because at the end of the day I know that you're one of the few that really gives a damn about your job and the patients you bring in. Don't say I ever told you this, but Emily called in because her kid got beat up pretty bad at school. Bad enough that they had to put him in the hospital. I need you to cover for her and I swear I will do what I can to get you a break."

I sighed and rubbed my forehead. Poor Emily. She rode along with Hesam and I when she was still in training and in the few slow periods we had, I got to know her. She was a young, single mother with four kids. Her husband was killed in a car accident a few years ago and she had to move to a rough neighborhood to make ends meet. She hated it there because the area was known for gang activity and she often feared for her kids, but just like me she took extra shifts to try and save up to move to a better place. Unfortunately that meant she was away from home a lot. She told me that no matter her schedule, she would get up to walk her kids to and from school in the hopes that it would deter any violence, but it looked like her plan failed. I felt bad for her because she really was trying to do the right thing. I felt obligated to help because if I was out working, she could stay by her son's side where she belonged. "Alright." I growled. "Be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Peter." He gushed. "I won't forget this."

I hung up the phone and muttered, "Yes you will." He knew exactly who to call and I felt used yet again; he knew I was a sucker for a sob story. He probably already had my name on the board before he picked up the phone.

It was cold and snowing outside, not unusual for the city in December but the perfect weather for mishaps. I darted into a coffee shop on the way in and scored a cup o' wake-up for myself and one for my mystery partner as a gesture of goodwill. It wasn't just a nice thing to do, it was almost a necessity for me these days. You wouldn't really think that other healthcare professionals would be jealous of the number of lives saved, but that was exactly what was happening to me. My track record was apparently too good to be acceptable among some of the crew and I was something of a pariah- as if being from a rich, powerful family wasn't enough of a handicap. They didn't know that I was aware of the office betting pool to see how fast I would wash out. Many of my co-workers thought I was just slumming so to speak and it was just a phase. Soon I would get tired of getting my hands dirty and retire to take up polo or something.

It seemed like Hesam was the only one that kept an open mind about all of it, although even he had his suspicions. For the most part we worked together just fine and made a great pair; he had nerves of steel to drive through the thickest traffic and I had…well…I never told him what I had that helped me do my job. We just kind of had an unspoken understanding that I just did what I did and he didn't ask too many questions. But I knew that someday I would slip and he would have to say something. He could only look the other way for so long and I felt bad because he really did deserve better.

Of everyone I worked with, he was the only one to genuinely tell me he was sorry to hear that Nathan died and that really meant something to me. Sure I got a generic sympathy card and a small plant from the company, but what I got a lot more of was silent stares and whispers behind my back at the very time that a small handshake or even a hug would have helped tremendously. It wasn't a lot to ask for some basic human empathy, but then again that just came naturally to me. I certainly would have done that for them regardless of how well I knew them or not, a loss is a loss no matter who you were and Nathan was a huge loss for me. They couldn't have known that his death felt like a supernova explosion and I was left drifting in the cold darkness of space, missing the warmth I used to feel in his presence. Hesam and I joke around a lot, but when he put his hand on my shoulder to offer his condolences, the sincerity in his eyes was almost overwhelming. You would have thought that someone in his family had died the way he seemed to take it so personally. I guess it wasn't much of a stretch; in this job you see so much death but you don't have time to mourn. Maybe in that moment he took the opportunity to grieve for himself.

I punched the time clock and half expected the readout to display, 'You again?!' before jogging down to the bay to meet my partner in rig #087. On the way I wondered if the clock reported hours to the state labor board- we all had to be in major violation of labor laws in the state of New York. I slowed to a stop, careful not to spill the coffee and located my ride with a groan. I didn't look at the board to see who I was working with, but I should have known it would be Marshall.

James Marshall was an Ivy League med school wash out who still believed he was God's gift to medicine. For reasons still unknown to me, he had a particular dislike for me because Nathan was a senator. I could only guess it was because Nate had actually attained a position of significance and influence that he was never able to and he was projecting his frustrations onto me, or maybe I was just guilty by association. Either way, he hated me and was probably the source of most of the rumors circulating about me. This was going to be the longest shift of my life.

Still, I put my best foot forward and offered him the coffee with a smile. Maybe if I could start things off right, it might not be so bad. He took one sip and threw the cup into the parking lot. "Shit's cold." He complained with a screwed up face. Or, maybe not. I decided the best course of action was to just stick to my job and take inventory of the rig before we set off.

The morning drug into the afternoon at a snail's pace. Nothing had been said the entire time, we each pretended that the other didn't exist and I looked out the foggy window at people shoveling snow between yawns. The steady sound of the windshield wipers rubbing the snow away was hypnotic as was the mindless chatter on the CB. Considering the weather, things were incredibly slow. When it snows as it had been, people get into car accidents or their houses catch on fire because they are using space heaters. Occasionally when it gets cold like this, we get calls to pick up the bodies of homeless people who have frozen to death for lack of a place to go. We find them on park benches, under bridges, and in abandoned houses. Every time I get a call like that I always wonder where their families are. Somewhere out there people should be wondering about them, but the medical examiners tell me that those same people largely go unclaimed and they are cremated and put into a mass grave. More often than not they are buried as John or Jane Doe because their identity can't be established. How sad to live your entire life in such a sea of humanity only to die unnoticed and nameless.

Some of the medics gripe about it and will even carelessly toss the body onto the stretcher and shove it into the rig with the attitude of no one else cared, so why should I? But I don't do that. True, they are gone and for many you have to wonder if it wasn't a good thing judging by the degree of emaciation from starvation or open wounds either from lack of basic medical care, complications of disease, or sometimes drug abuse. But I take care with them and treat them with respect because they were human beings who had names, even if I will never know what it was. They deserve the same level of decency and effort that I would give the wealthiest patient because a life is a life no matter how it was lived and no one is more deserving of it than anyone else.

"MVA at the corner of St. Mark's and 2nd. Multiple vehicles. Requesting all available fire and EMS." The CB droned.

"That's us." I sighed picking up the radio. "Copy. Unit 087 in route. ETA 4 minutes." It was always a rough guess, but traffic wasn't too bad today.

"Four minutes?" Marshall howled. "Do you think we are going to goddamn fly there?"

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what his problem was. He could have cut over one street and hit the sirens to clear the way down a major road before turning off. It was a quick trip that Hesan could make with time to stop off to gas up the rig. "Fine." I growled. "I will meet you there." I reached in the back for my pack and bailed on foot. He could take his sweet ass time if he wanted to, but people needed help and every minute counted. When I rounded the corner of the block, I hit the turbo boost and ran like the wind to the location the dispatcher had directed us to.

At first glance, the scene was not as bad as it sounded. Five cars had slid into each other, but the damage seemed moderate at best. I have definitely seen worse: like the kid that was racing his dad's Porsche and it hit the curb and went flying into a concrete pillar. There was almost nothing left of the car. I spent nearly four hours helping NYPD search the area for human remains and all I found was a finger tip. It was a very useful find though, because the morgue used the print on that finger to ID the body; it was all they had since the rest of the kid's body was so intertwined with the twisted metal that their only other option was a DNA test on the bits of flesh that they could extract. I have never seen anything like it before and I hope I never do again.

I approached the cars, looking into each one to see who needed the most help first. Some of the cars were empty, the occupants standing with a dazed expression on the sidewalk mostly unharmed. In a small blue car was an elderly man slumped over the wheel. I called to him and banged on the window, but he didn't move. I tried to open the door, but it was jammed and I looked around frantically for the fire department. They have the tools to cut the car open like a can of tuna, but they hadn't arrived yet although I could hear the sirens approaching. I took another look at the old man and my heart sank when I noticed bright red blood trickling from his ear. It was a bad sign that he had massive head trauma which meant I had to get to him at all cost. The passenger door was blocked by another car, so I took a deep breath and slammed my elbow into the window. Thanks to my thick coat, the shards didn't cut me to ribbons and I reached in to feel for a pulse but found nothing. He likely died on impact. The collision wasn't severe, but for the elderly it doesn't take much to tear blood vessels in the brain and cause hemorrhaging. As sad as it made me, I had to keep working.

"Under the car!" A bystander shouted as she pointed hysterically.

I dropped to my knees to see a young woman under the car. She was apparently a pedestrian that was struck during the pileup. I reached out to touch her arm. "Ma'am?" I called. "Can you hear me?" Her hand grasped the sleeve of my coat weakly. "I'm here to help you, ok? More help is on the way, but right now I need you to stay still. Don't move, ok? Just stay still and I will get you out of there."

She began to cry and looked at me pleadingly. "Please don't leave me." She begged as the tears ran down her bloodied face. "I'm so scared."

"I know." I said gently as I held her hand. "You're probably in a lot of pain right now, but if you move you could make it worse. I have to check on the others quickly, but I won't leave. I promise."

"Don't go." She whispered as she squeezed my hand tight. Her breathing had become labored and I was worried she may have internal injuries. Where the hell was Marshall and the others?!

"What's your name?" I asked softly.

"Mary." She replied sniffling.

"I'm Peter." I nodded. "Mary, I'll make a deal with you. Give me two minutes to take a look at the other people in the accident and I'll be right back. You can count if you want. One Mississippi, two Mississippi- like that. Ok? Two minutes and I'll be right here. Can you do that?" She nodded weakly and I gave her a reassuring smile before scrambling to my feet.

I too was counting in my head even as I triaged the remaining individuals. There were the expected number of cuts and bruises, and one possible broken wrist, but none seemed as bad off as Mary and it was about to get worse. The road had become slippery and from a distance of two blocks I saw a car spinning wildly out of control toward us. I had seven seconds at best to do something. If I moved her, I might make her injuries worse but if I left her there, she would most certainly die. Of course I could also die if I couldn't act fast enough, which meant I had to get my ass in gear.

I hit the pavement and crawled under the car as far as I could. I could feel jagged metal cutting me at the waist where my jacket had slipped up, but both of our outcomes depended on this. From under the car, I could see wheels fast approaching and I grabbed Mary's arm and leg and began to pull hard and fast while I scurried backward. She screamed in pain and I wanted to explain to her, but there was no time for words. I pulled her clear just as the car hit and instinctively ducked to avoid any flying fragments while I protected her with my own body. I'd like to tell you that I thought it all out as I was doing it, but that would be a lie. I only figured it out after the fact, while it was going on it was all a blur.

"Peter." Came a muffled voice from my chest. "You saved me." I released my grip somewhat and gave her a quick, embarrassed smile. I was an accidental hero at best.

"Petrelli!" Came Marshall's voice as he slammed the door to the rig. "What the hell? You know you never move accident victims! Is this your first day on the job?" I was still too stunned from my near death experience to respond when Mary began to cough. The sound was unnaturally wet and I looked down to see blood covering her pale lips.

"Shit." I muttered looking at Marshall. "Get the stretcher! She has to go now!" If she was coughing up blood it was a sure sign of internal bleeding and she had a very short time to get proper help. I knew it. I could tell by the way she was breathing that there was a serious problem and no doubt my pulling her so hastily only made it worse. We quickly loaded her up and sped away at a much slower pace than I would have liked. God what I wouldn't give for Hesan right now.

"Peter." She called reaching for my hand. I looked down as I readied the oxygen mask and she coughed again, spraying blood on me. I jumped away, immediately aware that the sensitive linings of my nose and eyes may have just been contaminated. As nice a person as she seemed to be, the truth was I didn't know her and she may have just spread a communicable blood borne pathogen. I quickly swiped my face with the sleeve of my jacket and placed the mask over her nose and mouth while I held her hand the rest of the way.


	2. Chapter 2 To Worse

**Chapter 2- …To Worse**

I all but ran with Mary down the hall of the ER all the while reciting her stats to the doctor that would take over the minute I let go of the gurney. I watched as the doors to the exam room swung shut and the medical staff swarmed around her like bees to nectar. Although I wished there was more that I could do for her, I knew that the best thing was to just stay out of the way.

And then it hit me. Adrenaline could be useful in that it kept me awake enough to react to the car that nearly made cream cheese of us as well as gave me the physical strength to pull much harder than I could in any other normal circumstance. The human body was incredible when it came to things like that, but when it was all said and done I was left almost dizzy and weak with exhaustion. I felt like just collapsing in a pile in the middle of the hallway, but I managed to shuffle over to the central nurse's station to start my paperwork.

"What the hell happened to you, baby?" Ruth peered at me over her glasses from behind the desk. Ruth probably could have retired years ago except she loved the job too much. Sure she bitched about it every breath, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Her white hair stood out in contrast to her dark complexion, but she was still beautiful in a worldly wise kind of way. After a lifetime of working in nursing, she had done and seen it all and never gave even our most bizarre cases a raised eyebrow.

She peered at me with eyes so sharp it felt like they cut directly to the core of my being and I knew there was no chance I could dance my way around this one like I usually did. "Just a tough day, Ruthie." I mumbled as I scribbled away on the papers.

"I would say so." She nodded as she chewed her gum mercilessly. "Either that is your blood or it ain't, but either way you just bought yourself some more trouble."

My pause turned to panic when she reached for the phone. "Ruth, please." I begged to no avail.

"I don't want to hear it." She waved me off with authority. "You know the rules and you ain't above them. Now finish up there before the doc gets here." She held the phone to her ear and waited for someone to pick up. While she waited, she looked at me with a half smirk as she added, "Someone's gotta look after you. Lord knows you do a piss poor job of it yourself. Look at you- white as the snow outside. When was the last time you ate, boy?"

I smirked and quickly grabbed a red foil wrapped Hershey's Kiss out of the bowl on her desk. She regarded me with a wary eye. "Or slept? My goodie bowl was almost empty when I got in- that's how I know you were here last night. Nobody has the balls to touch my bowl but you."

I popped the bit of chocolate in my mouth and gave her my best innocently shy smile. "C'mon, Ruthie. You know you love me."

She turned incredulously to the nurse beside her and scoffed. "Look at him all up in here tryin' to play that I-talian Romeo crap with me." She turned to me and shook her head. "I'll tell you now that those days are long over for me, sweetie. Where the hell were you 30 years ago?"

I finished signing the last paper and sighed, "Oh you know…hanging out in my Ma's womb."

"Mmmhmmm." She hummed. "I was old enough to be your mother then and here you come tryin' to smooth talk me like I was one of the new girls fresh out of nursing school." She slammed the phone down and muttered, "Damn doctors too busy to pick up the phone. I don't know why the hell they get paid so much to just ignore us. They need to assign a nurse up there to pick up the damn phone for them and hold it to their ear."

"Amen." I commented absentmindedly as I made sure my paperwork was in order to hand in. I may be a paramedic now, but I was a nurse first and there was no end to the pile of work that was shoved onto the staff by doctors who were just too lazy. I actually had one medical student have the audacity to ask me if I could pull his charts and open each one to the last page so all he would have to do is sign it before moving on to the next one. I was appalled…but of course I did it and that wasn't the half of what I was asked to do.

"Well, as always if you want something done you have to do it yourself." She sighed walking around the desk but coming to a sudden stop behind me. "Now what the hell is this?" She asked pulling up my jacket to look at the cut on my back. I had actually forgotten about it in all the excitement, but now that she mentioned it, it did sting a little. "You got blood all down the back of your pants. My god, boy." She shook her head slowly. "I swear one of these days they will wheel you in on a stretcher."

She snagged a passing resident and all too soon I found myself in a chilly exam room with the halogen lights that make everything seem way too sterile. I had never seen the resident before, but the way they rotated in and out so quickly I hardly knew any of them. "Ok," she sighed snapping on a pair of latex gloves. "Drop your drawers." If it was meant to be some kind of a joke, I didn't think it was funny. You just don't make that particular reference to guys without inducing a large amount of anxiety and dread. Still, I took off my jacket and loosened my pants enough for them to slide down my hips a few inches before turning to brace myself against the table.

As she inspected and scrubbed the cut, I tried not to flinch because she was scouring away like she was using sandpaper to smooth out marble and it really hurt. This was the curse of working for a teaching hospital: staff are fair game to practice on and she was still in the process of learning the ropes. I couldn't blame her too much for her lack of clinical skills because I too had to intern and practice on people to learn the intricacies of my job as well. I remember the first time I had to see a real, live patient and I had to draw blood. I was so nervous my hands were shaking and it took a few attempts to get the job done. I was so jumpy I'm surprised I didn't accidently poke them in the eye. I kept apologizing profusely, but that is all part of becoming proficient. People suffered so I could get better and now it was my turn to be the guinea pig.

I was ever so thankful that the assault stopped. My bottom lip was sore from biting it in order to keep the pain in check. "Looks like you need stitches." She announced in a bored tone. I hung my head and sighed. "Hop up on the table."

I climbed up on the exam table, tearing and crinkling the paper strip that ran down the center beyond any effective usefulness and took some deep breaths to prepare myself for the next endurance test. She gave me a shot to numb it first, but didn't wait long enough for it to take effect before she started in. She had other patients to see and I knew that I was kind of low on her personal priority list (as simple sutures are for any doctor), but I was still a patient that had a fully functional nervous system that reported pain quite frequently and I hoped she didn't treat all of her patients this way. I tried to block out the pain and think of something else, but my brain was so fatigued all it could focus on was how convenient it would have been to have Claire's ability right about now.

Once again I was reminded of how inconvenient it was to only be able to hold onto one power at a time since my father had taken that ability away from me. The pit of my stomach sank at the thought of him. I believed he was dead for all that time and then to come face to face with him? Truthfully all I wanted was to hug him. Although we were never really close when I was growing up, he was still my father and I hoped that there would be a second chance to start over again- to at least be able to form a mutual respect for each other because in the end that was all I really ever wanted. He was always more interested in Nate and I couldn't blame him. I wasn't on the football team, I wasn't really popular, I didn't fly fighter jets. There was no doubt that I was the runt of the litter and had it not been for Ma he may have just killed me the way Spartans killed weak children. But still I missed him when I thought he died the first time and when I saw him alive and well, I was relieved. Imagine my surprise when he wiped me clean like a slate for his own selfish gain before Sylar finally did him in. I would have…I wanted to…but I couldn't. He was right: he was practiced killer and I wasn't.

I was brought back to reality by the sound of the exam door slamming shut. I turned my head to see the boss with a grim expression on his face. My heart sank because I could tell he was the bearer of bad news. The resident quickly cut the thread she had just tied and said, "Well, I am done here. I will send in a nurse to get you the tetanus and hepatitis booster as well as get you started on antivirals until the results from the HIV lab come back. You know how to wash out your eyes, right?" She asked setting down a liter bottle of saline by the sink. It was a bit late for that since more than enough time had passed from the moment Mary coughed on me for the virus to make it into my system- that is if she had anything at all. I nodded and she nervously skipped out.

"Peter." The boss nodded grimly. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

I fought not to let my despair show too much as I quietly asked, "She didn't make it, did she?"

"I'm afraid not, son." He replied in a low tone as he looked down at the fresh stitches in my lower back. "She died of a ruptured aorta, she didn't have a chance. But it gets worse. I'm afraid I have to place you on suspension. I told you I was going to give you a break, but this isn't what I had in mind."

"What?" I asked painfully twisting to face him. "Why?!"

He kept his calm and I could tell that this was not his doing. "Marshall has reported you as negligent. He said you unnecessarily moved the patient and in doing so you caused her death."

I was almost too stunned to speak, but my voice finally forced its way past my lips. "I did move her, but only because there was another car that was going to hit us! He had to have seen it!"

"He claims you were the only one on the scene and he didn't see anything but you moving her. No EMS, fire or NYPD were there to back you up. I hate to do this, son, but you know I have to investigate claims of negligence- especially when it results in a death. So clock out and I will call you." The door shut quietly behind him and I just laid on the table trying my best not to be sick. In the matter of a half hour my entire world had come crashing down.

I walked home in the falling darkness, slowly shuffling my feet toward my apartment in the cold, blowing snow. My stitches pulled painfully with every step and my upper arm ached from all of the shots, but I didn't care about any of it. The windows of the stores I passed glittered and gleamed with Christmas cheer, but I was the most miserable man on the planet. What was Mary doing out this afternoon? Was she doing her holiday shopping? I was saddened by the knowledge that she would never see these windows again and wondered how her family would celebrate in light of her death. Somewhere in the country, gifts would sit under the tree never to be unwrapped by her. I knew what I did was right, but despite my best efforts I couldn't save her. Some hero I was.

The wind was fierce and I drew my arms closer to my body to preserve heat while I dodged people carrying shopping bags who frantically waved for taxis to carry them back to their warm homes. Snow clung to my hair and melted, dribbling streams of cold water down my neck and into my eyes. It was irritating, but on some level I felt as though I deserved it. I was sad, but I was also angry at Marshall for outright lying his ass off about what happened just to satisfy some stupid, petty grudge he had with me. He saw the car hit us, I know he did. He knew I had no choice but to move her and yet he told the boss I was reckless in an attempt to no doubt get me fired. How could you possibly hate someone that much?

I trudged forward, keeping my head down to prevent the snow from blowing into my eyes, feeling the snow crunch under my boots when I heard a woman screaming. I immediately stopped and looked around, but no one else seemed to notice even though it was getting louder. Typical jaded urbanites. I followed the sound to a nearby alley where her voice reverberated up the brick walls and into the dark sky. I peeked around the corner and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness to see a man dragging a woman by her arm down the alley. He was easily twice her size and she obviously didn't want to go with him. I quickly looked around at the people passing by, but they were determined not to get involved and I couldn't believe it. Someone had to help her and it looked like that someone would have to be me. There was no way in hell I could just walk away now and pretend I didn't know what was going on, although if I did no one would think less of me and that was very disturbing. For as long as I have lived here, I never understood the complete lack of concern for fellow human beings that the residents appeared to have.

I crept along the rough brick wall of the alley, trying to stay out of sight until the last moment. Once again I found myself thinking that I had the wrong ability. If I still had Sylar's telekinesis, this would all be so much easier. Or Hiro's teleportation for that matter, but what wasn't really helpful was the fact that I could run really fast. That kind of ability required a fairly good distance and the little alley just wasn't suited for that. Even at a distance I could tell that he was much bigger and stronger than me, so hand-to-hand combat was probably going to be out although I did complete the company's self defense class and I could probably pull a few surprises out of my hat.

You wouldn't think that I, as a person who is called to save lives in an emergency, would need to defend myself from bystanders but you would be wrong. I actually got stabbed once by a mentally ill man, but thankfully I had Claire's ability and I quickly healed. That was the day Hesam and I forged our own 'don't ask, don't tell' policy when I had to give one excuse after another for why I had blood on my shirt but no cut- especially when he watched it happen. I finally convinced him that he was seeing things and that he had swiped at me and cut my shirt, but not me. And the blood was the patient's, not mine. Yeah, something like that. Since then I have been incredibly careful and discrete how and when I used whatever ability I had so he wouldn't know.

But I didn't have the ability to heal now and I had to minimize my chance of injury if I tangled with this guy. There was always the element of surprise, but I wasn't counting too heavily on that. I narrowed my eyes when he yelled at her to shut up and slapped her in the face hard enough to knock her down. She sat in the icy slush on the ground, holding her face and sobbing. I bared my teeth as a white hot anger boiled up from the pit of my stomach. What kind of a man would hit a woman like that? No doubt he was planning far worse for her, but I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't sure what, but I had to do something and the first step was jumping to my feet and getting into plain view. "Hey!" I shouted just be sure he noticed me.

He turned quickly as though he wasn't expecting company, but in a low voice he growled, "You best move on, mister. This doesn't concern you."

My heart was pounding so hard I almost didn't hear him. "Well," I shrugged, "it kinda does now." It was the only thing I could think to say and I hoped it wasn't too confrontational. We could work this all out like gentlemen…

He looked me up and down as though he was planning which bone in my body to break first while the woman cried, "Don't do it, Ronnie. You don't want to go back to prison!" I swallowed hard. This wasn't working out like I had planned…wait…I didn't really have a plan. I instinctively crouched into a fighting stance with my hands up to protect my face like a boxer just like I was taught in the self defense class and Ronnie laughed as he slowly approached. I admit I was afraid, but I held my ground. I reminded myself of the times I faced off with Sylar- a man 10 times- make that 1000 times worse than this guy could hope to be and when it came down to brawling, I beat him every time. If I could smack Sylar around in Kirby Plaza and Pinehurst, I could handle this. Besides, I didn't have to fight to the death- I just had to buy enough time for the woman to escape and then I could run if I had to.

While I watched him with a keen eye, she pulled herself to her feet slowly and started for the street in a daze. I wished she would walk faster, but she was no doubt traumatized by the assault and Ronnie boy wasn't making any moves to chase her but he was watching her every move with a sick smirk on his face. And then, unexpectedly, something very hard hit the back of my head with enough force to send me to my knees. I was quite literally dazed and confused as I watched lights dance in front of my eyes and I fought off a wave of nausea.

Ronnie seized his opportunity for revenge and I reflexively curled into a ball to protect my already damaged brain from further assault. The punches and kicks came so fast I hardly felt the last one before the next one came, all the while the woman screamed and begged for him to stop. When he was panting with exhaustion and too weak to throw another punch he did, but not before giving me one last stomp in the side. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt him fish in my pockets until he found my wallet. He removed what he wanted and threw it down next to my face with an evil laugh. The last thing I saw before blacking out was him counting the cash he had stolen and her tagging along behind pleading for him not to leave her. He damn near killed me for $6 and it was all for nothing.

When I woke up again, the first thing I noticed was the sensation of snow gently falling on my face and then quickly melting. It was a calm and peaceful feeling for almost a full minute before the pain hit and I remembered I was laying face up in an alley after being beaten and robbed. I sat up slowly and dragged myself to the nearest wall where I could rest. My head was throbbing, I felt sick, I was soaked to the bone, I was cold, and I was bleeding. I pulled my knees up and ignored the sharp pain in my side so I could hold my head in my hands and wonder what the hell I had done to deserve the kind of day I had.

Twice in one day I tried to be a hero, I tried to do the right thing by doing what I could to help and both ended in disaster. I couldn't believe the woman was the one that hit me in the head because she was afraid of losing a crappy relationship. Mary died despite all I could do and now I was faced with the possibility of losing my job. Now more than ever I wanted someone to help me for once. I was always the one extending my hand and going out of my way. Where was my hero when I needed one?

I thought of all the people I knew who I could possibly go to for some kind of comfort. For whatever reason, the first name that came to mind was Sylar although he would be the absolute last person on the face of the earth that would give a damn. I had to be careful because like a bad penny, he often turned up just when you least needed him to and right now I could do without his sarcastic remarks and subtly evil smirks. But despite his persona, deep underneath it all there was something odd between us. He has saved me before and if he were here now, he might not even so much as help me up but he wouldn't try to kill me either.

My mother was absolutely out of the question. She may feel obligated in some way to render first aid, but it would be just as personal and loving as the resident that saw me earlier. There was Matt, but he was a cop and no doubt he would be more interested in finding the guy that did this to me. He couldn't help it, it was what he always wanted to be and I admired him for his determination. Hiro was a pretty good friend, but I didn't know where he was. I was friendly with Ando, but I didn't know him well enough to drop in unannounced looking like this. Noah had been in contact a lot lately, but he was the kind of guy you went to when you wanted information- not sympathy. Claire would have understood and respected me enough not to make me feel guilty, but she was far away at school and I wanted her to have the normal life she wanted without having weird guys visit her on campus late at night. Hell, not even my future self turned up to lend a hand and that really said something.

I tried not to, but tears began to fall from my eyes when I realized that the person I wanted most, the one that would make me feel better almost instantly was Nate and he was gone. If he were still alive, I would have gone to his house and he would have let me in with the stern look he always had when I got myself into trouble. He would have given me some of his clothes to wear while he washed and dried mine. Of course they would be too big, but at least they would be comfortable, dry, and warm. He would have lit a fire and sat me down close to it to warm up while he made me a hot buttered rum even though I didn't like it and told him so on many occasions, but he always forgot. I would sip it anyways so I wouldn't hurt his feelings and enjoy the popping sound and the smell of the burning wood. He would no doubt lecture me about how I worked too much and spent way too much effort trying to help other people when what I needed to do was watch out for myself. This might go on for hours, but at the end of it all he would no doubt get up to hug me and tell me how much he worries about me and how I need to start being more responsible and take better care of myself. Then he would tell me it was late and insist I spend the night in the guest bedroom and he would end with the same line he always used- 'We'll sort this all out in the morning' although everything had already been discussed. But for him there was always unfinished business. What he really meant was he would lie awake all night thinking about all the things he didn't say and he would take it up again later. God how I missed him.

But Nate was gone and I was completely alone, shivering and hurting. I didn't even have money to take a taxi home. So with no one to help me, I hauled myself up and limped home wondering if it was all worth it. Why spend so much time helping others when in the end no one was there for you? Maybe I just wasn't cut out for the hero business. Maybe Nate was right all along.

All the way home, the passers by pretended not to notice the bloodied, sopping wet man that pushed past them holding his side and walking with an odd gait. Not one person stopped to ask me if I was ok or needed help. Maybe it was time to become one of them.


	3. Chapter 3 My Hero

**A/N: So this concludes the end of Peter's day. Happy Holidays to all and may next year be better than the last! Cheers!**

**Chapter 3- My Hero**

I slowly picked my head up off my pillow and winced when I heard loud banging on my door. It was shortly after 7 am and although I had been asleep for more than 10 hours I felt like I could sleep about a day more. I let my head fall back onto the pillow and tried to ignore whoever thought it was appropriate to drop by so damn early unannounced. "Peter!" A voice called. "It's Heasm, open the door, man!" I lay there a minute or so more and contemplated whether complying with his request would be worth it. I was pretty comfortable where I was considering the light thumping that had been going on in my skull ever since that woman clocked me with…whatever she found laying around.

"If you don't open the door, I will have to do it myself." He warned. I have watched him kick down doors before and he wasn't very graceful, but he did have brute strength that often made toothpicks out of the doorframe and I didn't know how I could explain that to the super. Just as I was sitting up, holding my head to keep my brain from sliding out my ear, I heard the doorknob rattle and the squeaking of the hinges as it swung open. I staggered into the living room wearing only my pajama bottoms and squinted at him as he held up my keys and jingled them. "You left them hanging in the door." He explained frowning. "You look like you had a rough night. I guess getting into a bar fight is one way of dealing with a suspension." I sighed and swiped the keys out of his hand to toss them on the counter. He smiled nervously and asked, "Seriously, man. What happened?"

I fell into a chair in the kitchen to stop the room from spinning as I massaged my temples. "I lost one yesterday, I got suspended, and then I got the crap kicked out of me on the way home. It was a pretty eventful day all in all."

I heard his footsteps slowly approach as he took the chair opposite me. "Peter, Marshall is full of shit and everyone knows it. When NYPD arrived on the scene they no doubt talked to witnesses and all it will take is one of them to put you in the clear. You'll be back at work tomorrow." He paused before adding, "Assuming you are well enough to go. You have a pretty nasty cut on your head there and you are acting suspiciously like a head trauma patient." He picked up my travel kit I usually had with me when I was on call and rifled through the supplies.

I tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. It was then that it dawned on me that he had probably just got off work, that was why it was so early. "Didn't you see enough patients last night?" I asked trying to change the subject. If he spent all night working, the last thing I wanted him to do was to feel like he had to triage me as well.

"Nah, it was slow last night. All false alarms. Since you were off they put me with Kelly. Nice girl, but it just wasn't the same." He chuckled. "Now don't be a whiner and let me take a look at you." He pulled a pair of latex gloves from a pocket in his cargo pants and smiled as he towered over me. "This won't hurt a bit." He assured me. "So I heard you got stabbed in the back on that call."

"In more ways than one." I replied tipping my head back so he could better work.

He pushed me forward a bit so he could see for himself and he whistled. "You got about 9 or so back there. Kinda sloppy, though. Did you get sewed up by the janitor or was that a DIY job?" he smiled while he cleaned the cut on my forehead. To his credit, he wasn't as rough as the resident- probably because he had been on the job longer and knew just how much was enough to get the job done. "Looks like you could use a few more, but you might be able to get by with some butterflies."

"That would be great." I nodded. "I don't know how my Ma would react to me showing up to her annual Christmas black tie soiree with fresh stitches in my head."

"So your holiday plans are set then?" He asked trying his best not to laugh at my immanent misfortune. He knew how much I hated those types of things. "Sounds like fun."

"Actually I was going to invite you as well." I smiled. "Misery loves company and it wouldn't hurt to darken the room a little."

He gave a hearty laugh as he carefully placed each strip across the wound. "I'll bet your mother would like that. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm not sure I'd like the smell of old people and even older money. Besides, it can't be worth the strip search at the door to make sure I'm not strapped with explosives. I actually dropped by to give you your gift because I have plans of my own. I am going back to Iran for a week. My plane leaves this afternoon."

"Really?" I asked surprised. "That's great, Hesam. How did you get the time off?"

He casually shrugged and answered, "I didn't ask for the time off- I told the boss he could either be without a medic for 7 days or he could be without one permanently. It was up to him."

"Awesome." I chuckled. It would never occur to me to be such a jerk about it. "Be careful over there, it can be dangerous."

He smiled warmly at me as he finished placing the bandage over the butterflies to keep them clean. "For you it would be, but my family is there and I'm not worried about it. They will take good care of me while I am visiting. I don't expect trouble until I try to reenter the country- that is where the trouble will begin."

"I'll trade you." I offered. "I'll go to Iran and you can go to the stupid party."

"Not on your life, Bro!" He shook his head. "Too bad though, because my family would welcome you as if you were one of their own. It is just the custom." He again pushed on my shoulder to make me lean forward. "I'll just clean these as long as I am here. They are in an awkward place. You probably can't reach them very easily." The saline was cold on my bare skin and the stitches were sore from being pulled so much the day before, but he was careful not to move them too much while he worked. I rested my head on the table and noticed that the throbbing had subsided somewhat. "You know, Peter, you did the right thing out there." He said quietly. "I know you tried your damndest to save her by working one of your miracles, but you can't save everybody no matter how hard you try."

"I know." I mumbled into the table. It was like hearing Nate channeled through him and I smiled.

"But you can't stop trying." He continued. "Because of you there are probably over 100 people walking around out there who might not have been if you hadn't responded to the call. There were people that I would have bet my soul would have been DOA, and somehow you got them to hang on long enough to survive. I don't know how you do it, man, but you have some kind of magic touch, and that is a gift that you can't keep to yourself. People need you."

"You just don't want to work with Marshall if I quit." I laughed.

"Damn right!" He confirmed cleaning up the pile of empty wrappers from the supplies and throwing them away. "I'd run his arrogant ass over with the rig the first time he opened his mouth."

He had me sit back up and after following his finger with my eyes and successfully remembering a few random words, he proclaimed "Looks like you just have some deep bruises and maybe a light concussion. Get plenty of rest, but don't forget to eat and stuff like that."

"Yes, Mother." I playfully chuckled.

"You wish." He mumbled. "Seriously, though. Are you going to be ok? I mean, do you have someone to call if you need to?" His eyes had that same despondency they did when he talked about Nathan's death. "I know the holidays can be hard and you have had a pretty rough time lately."

I slowly nodded as I looked at the floor. No, I didn't have anyone I could call and this Christmas would be hard since it was the first without Nate and I had to face the horror of the party alone. At least I had an ally and we usually stuck together and drank one glass after another of brandied egg nog to dull the pain until such a time we could make a hasty exit. But this year would be different. "I'll be ok." I shrugged not really knowing if I would be or not.

He looked at me like he usually did when he knew I wasn't being completely truthful and cautiously said, "You have my cell number, right? I have to go pack for the trip, but you can always call."

I smiled and replied, "Thanks, Hesam. Thanks for everything."

"No problem, bro." He nodded sincerely. "I know you would do it for me. That's just the kind of person you are and it isn't often that you let others do anything for you." I pulled on a shirt and walked him to the front door where I waved goodbye as he walked down the snowy street toward the subway. I checked my mailbox on the way back up to the apartment and sorted through all the junk mail and flyers that had been stuffed and compacted into the small space since the last time I checked it days ago.

Among the mass of credit card offers and misdirected mail for the next door neighbor was a small card with handwriting that I didn't recognize. I opened it curiously to find a thank you card and a letter that read:

"Dear Sir-

I am sorry I have forgotten your name. I know you told me what it was, but I was so disoriented at the time I couldn't remember it. You may not know who I am, but I was staying with my daughter over the Thanksgiving weekend when her son accidently knocked over a candle and caught the house on fire. I was trapped in the kitchen not far from the front door, but I was choking on the smoke and I became confused and couldn't find my way out. I may have forgotten your name, but I will never forget that it was you who found me and carried me out safely to your ambulance. You told me your name and patiently listened to the ramblings of a confused old woman all the way to the hospital and endured my endless repetitive question of "Where are we going?" But what I remember most was your kind eyes and the way you smiled and held my hand the whole way.

Even though it was a holiday and you probably wanted to spend time with your own family, you were there when I needed you most and saved my family from a horrible tragedy. I know I would have died if you hadn't rescued me. I thank God for you every day because He knows who you are even if I don't and I ask Him to bless you for being so compassionate to those in need. I stopped by the hospital in the hopes that I would see you again to thank you myself, but I was unsuccessful. Instead, I decided to write this letter to let you know how grateful I am. The nurse at the desk (Ruth!) said she knew who you were and she said she would mail this for me.

I know your job must be hard because you see so much suffering and sometimes people don't make it, but just know that sometimes we do and every one of us that you help have you to thank for it. To have someone like you at our side during our lowest and most frightening moments is truly a blessing.

-Rev. Emma Brighton"

I read the letter over and over again and it warmed my heart. I did remember her because she was so much like my own grandmother that I instantly liked her. The fire department hadn't shown up yet and the daughter was on the lawn shouting that her mother was still inside. I took one look at Hesam and bolted for the door in search of her. I was glad to hear from the doctors that despite her age she had a good prognosis and would probably be released the next day. I never expected to hear from her again because so often we don't hear the outcomes of our efforts, but I was happy that she was able to celebrate another Christmas with her family. And Ruth….she knew the whole time what was going on and never said a word. I would have to harass her about when I saw her again.

I was on my way back to my bedroom to lay down when I noticed a gift wrapped in shiny red and silver paper sitting by my keys on the counter. It was Hesam's present he said he brought. I felt bad because I didn't have a gift for him. We didn't exchange gifts last year and I wasn't expecting this at all. I read the small card that was attached and furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "In the event an epi pen is not available..." I tore off the paper and laughed until my head hurt. It was a clear box with a Hershey chocolate bar mounted inside and a plaque beneath it that read: "In case of emergency- break glass" This was going in the rig with me on every call, because I knew that there would be more long shifts and many more shots at redemption that lie ahead. For every Mary there was an Emma and I had to remind myself of that. A real hero never gives up- they keep trying even when they fail.


End file.
